Why do I have piles of newspapers again? What enticed me to subscribe to Ha'aretz and have newspaper/coffee in the morning? There it is at my gate on the second floor - does the delivery man wish I forgot my stair light so he could leave it in the box downstairs? Almost first thing in the a.m. I bring in the paper, save the long slim plastic bags to protect the planet and find something to make with them, and sit down with the paper and coffee. I skim my way through the pages and think what a good citizen I could be if I were involved enough to make a difference ( yea, how aside from cursing quietly as I read?) . Coffee and browse over, the paper gets dumped in the pile behind the sofa (somewhere underneath there is a pretty wrought iron newspaper holder crushed by the weight) to be recycled as papier mache maybe, or when I can carry the heavy load downstairs. Then thanks to this interlude I weave through the day with the residue of unease but hardly a memory of details.
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